Sunny and Grey 2: Stage Fright!
by SpongeGuy
Summary: About a Month After "Sunny and Grey", Bradley finds a depressed and exhausted Lydia in need of his help. But can Bradley be selfless enough to help Lydia, and maybe even himself? Sequel to "Sunny and Grey", Part of "The Milo Murphy's Law Wiki Guy AU".
1. Drama At The Er, Drama Club

Black screen.

SUDDENLY!

October 2017!

Danville Drama Club, upper floor of the building!

Past posters of past productions of "Mother Goose Rhymes" and "The Wave", polished pictures of founder Mateo Meir, back when he was performing "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" in the finest theatres, past odd knick knacks, brown wooden floors, creaky stairs, cheap carpeting and a surprisingly prominent poster of "Life Is Beautiful" with Roberto Bengini, we can see a small hallway.

It's narrow, and there's nothing really there, except for an entrance to the right, that leads into a small, sweaty bathroom.

Two doors, one for girls, one for boys, a dinky sink that looks… Mediocre, no real soap (the budget is pretty thin here, folks) and a mirror.

Normally, one would find nothing here of note.

It was a bathroom in the upper floor of a two floor drama club with adequate (if not exemplary) budget.

It had tiled floors that were white, it had a slightly cracked ceiling, it had cramped living space like you wouldn't believe.

Not in a million years would you find anything of worth here!

Except…

Except for today.

'Cause today…

A girl, a special girl named Lydia is in there.

And something is very wrong.

Fshh!

The water ran calmly, failing to reflect the internal storm Lydia felt.

She ran her hands through the room temperature water, almost feeling the fluoride.

But right now, that barely functioning sink water that probably had more chemicals than you want to know was her only friend.

She splashed the water on her face, the droplets drying out thanks to the humidity, leaving a wet sensation on her face that hardly felt comfortable.

Well, it was that or the tears.

The tears ran down like crazy, making her cheeks sting red, making her eyes puff up, making her throat hurt, said tears stung them so much.

She hadn't cried in forever.

As a matter of fact, she had been holding them back.

Now, Lydia was normally a cheerful girl.

To be accurate, she was a downright optimistic, happy go lucky Pollyanna.

She was HAPPY.

Life had always felt like an adventure waiting to happen!

Another amazing step forwards!

Lydia loved practically everything!

Some girls felt comfortable in one area, as if they had to be girly or tomboy and that's it!

Uh uh!

Not Lydia!

She loved video games and superheroes as much as she loved shopping and ponies!

She loved all kinds of things, actually!

Books, the internet, movies, games, malls, candy, amusement parks, writing, drawing, rock climbing, poetry, EXTREME BINGO!

She loved her parents.

She loved her friends.

She loved the world!

She loved how when she appeared on stage, she could make people smile and laugh, she could make them relax and forget the troubles of the world!

She could ease their life!

For just a moment…

For just a single, solitary moment…

She made people's lives better by just a tiny bit.

Yes, Lydia loved almost everything and everyone!

That is…

Except for Corky.

Corky was the new Drama Club teacher.

He had a small beard, more stubble than goatee, and it made him look a little silly (not that anyone would dare mention it).

He had a collection of shirts and jackets that all looked rather plain, as if he didn't really care what he put on.

He had a smoking habit, and you could tell that it was one of his few pleasures.

He had a dull bald head, as if light couldn't reflect off it no matter how much it tried.

As if it answered your quarry on whether he had a heart.

Because the truth, dear readers, was that he didn't.

Now, you may say, isn't that a harsh accusation, Mr. Author Man?

We barely know this guy, and here you are literally describing him as heartless?

Well, you're right.

It is harsh.

But if he had a heart, he darn liked hiding it!

Corky was assigned to teach acting, but one would almost think he was assigned to run a boot camp.

He loved pointing out flaws and nitpicks.

A gleam could be seen in his eyes when he did, his perpetual frown would take the misshapen and ugly form of a sneer, a cold, judging sneer that made you feel bad for existing.

At first, he wasn't too bad.

Harsh, judgmental, cold, but not terrible.

But something happened, and the power went into his head.

He enjoyed the game of toying with their emotions.

He'd stop them every second for another "mistake", whether it was a faulty walk, or a wrong tone of voice, or even just "looking ugly".

Yes.

Really.

Lydia couldn't stand the treatment he gave.

Don't misunderstand, she too had received terrible treatment.

But…

She was just Lydia.

She wasn't anything seriously special.

She didn't hate herself, or anything, but…

Seeing her friends get shouted at over and over, their confidence shattering…

She couldn't take it standing.

She could leave, she knew that.

But…

Lydia was many things.

A goofball, a weirdo, a wingnut, a scatterbrain, a slightly bossy girl, a slacker in some senses, an idiot, a knuckleheadmcspazzmatron…

But…

Lydia was no jerk.

Her friends needed someone to remind them that they were great!

Someone who could carry their pain and take the brunt of it!

Someone who would dry their tears, even if it meant ignoring her own!

A shining hero who would smile, no matter what she felt inside!

If Lydia left, the play would collapse!

And her friends would all feel terrible!

So…

She stayed.

Even though every fiber of her being screamed for her to leave, to resign, to rest…

Even though her body felt like it stumbled along, barely holding itself together, only relaxed in bed…

Even though her soul weeped every time Corky yelled at her and her friends, even though he made her feel like…

But no. She would not yield to him.

They needed her.

They needed the hero who smiles and says that all is ok.

Because she is here.

She turned off the tap.

She rubbed her face.

Lydia took a deep breath.

"Ok… I'm ok…", she said.

She would help her drama group.

She would not fail.

She could not.

Lydia once again smiled.

Ignoring the small tear that trickled down on her left cheek.

* * *

**And So, The First Chapter of Sunny and Grey 2 is out! Stay Tuned for Next Week's chapter!**


	2. Would It Kill You To Care?

(A white background is shown)

("Accidentally In Love" by Counting Crows plays)

(It splits in half, and we see two sides: On the right, Lydia, literally shining and radiant, emanating a yellow glow. On the left, Bradley, dull and dusky, a grey glow emanating from him)

(We see both sides at the same time:

(They both wake up, Lydia excitedly getting dressed, brushing her teeth and running around talking up a storm while shoving cereal in to her mouth)

(Bradley, meanwhile, moans and grumbles, and drags his feet as he gets dressed, brushes his teeth and takes a bag with a bland sandwich in it)

(Lydia walks and talks with Amanda, gesticulating like crazy and sharing feelings and ideas. Amanda just shakes her head lovingly and smiles)

(Bradley walks and vents to Mort, who has heard it all a million times and meditates as Bradley whines)

(Lydia bids farewell to Amanda and runs off excitedly in the direction of her locker, to the left of the screen)

(Bradley sort of nods at Mort and slowly walks to the right of the screen, to get to his locker)

(The two sides clash. Lydia and Bradley, not looking for a second, crash into each other, and the halfway line disappears)

(Now on the floor, Lydia and Bradley sit back to back. Lydia smiles at the screen and waves, Bradley rolls his eyes and frowns at the screen)

(A title flashes:

Sunny and Grey 2: Stage Fright

* * *

"…I can't believe I'm saying this, but the school lunch might just be better than my parents sandwiches."

Bradley Nicholson, still grey (if a little less), and with what seemed to be a regular frown as opposed to his usually cynical and life loathing frown, picked up a particularly frail and sickly looking meat loaf and he jabbed it with a school brand plastic fork, the kind that could be snapped in half if you stood 50 feet away and willed it to do so.

The plastic fork was swallowed whole by the meat loaf, which had somehow developed lips.

It smacked them and, baring its teeth, smiled at Bradley with a menacing grin, one that promised trouble.

"Feed me, Bradley!", it demanded.

Bradley, with not even a second glance, threw the meat loaf into a trash can.

"That was utterly revolting. Yet, somehow, still better than my parents sandwiches."

Mort, sitting by another table, nodded. "Freaky."

Bradley sighed wearily, a sad look glazing his face, which he reasoned was better than an angry or frustrated look. "But not at all surprising."

Mort raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What's not surprising? That the meat loaf is alive?"

Bradley shook his head, all too resigned to his fate. "No, I'm sort of used to all the bizarre stuff that happens here every day."

In the middle of the cafeteria, Mr. Drako was in the middle of a rap battle with Hamosaur, giant ferrets were hula hooping and green slime was oozing from the walls.

"Kind of have to, you know?", Bradley explained matter of factly.

He still looked down, though, so Mort pressed on.

"So… What's bothering you this time? Melissa?"

Bradley looked up to see Milo and Melissa laugh and smile, the two playing "Would You Rather?" and yukking it up.

"H'mm…", Milo considered a question, trying to come up with one that would challenge his best friend.

He snapped his fingers, and he pointed at her, smiling.

"Would you rather have the ability to turn things into ice cream, or the ability to turn huge?"

Melissa smirked.

"I can buy ice cream any day! But will ice cream make my enemies cower in fear?", she dramatically shouted, shaking her fist.

She pointed at Milo, in fake accusation. "I think not!"

She then got up on the table and pretended to be a giant, destroying the city.

"Surrender your political positions, and I might spare your lives!"

Milo laughed. "You're so weird, Melissa."

He smiled softly.

"Yet another reason why you're the best."

Melissa fist bumped him. "Back at ya, ya goon."

Bradley returned to look at Mort.

He looked sad, but a different sad.

A month and a week ago, he would have… Well, spilled juice on himself, apparently.

But today, he was just…

Ok.

Maybe he had outgrown his crush on Melissa.

"Nope, that's not what's bothering me. Honestly, I've kind of outgrown my love for her."

Mort smirked as he sipped from his jasmine tea. "Yeah, because you're dating Lydia now."

Bradley's face turned red hot and he stared at Mort with an appalled and irritated expression.

"You know that's not true! We're just friends!"

Bradley then smiled softy. "Huh. All my life, I never thought I'd be able to describe someone as my friend."

"Ow. Right here, you know.", Mort retorted, a little offended by that remark.

Bradley ignored him, though, lost in thought.

Lydia.

Was it really only a month and a week ago?

Ever since she had entered his life, Bradley had to admit: He felt better.

Happier, even.

They had hung out often (at least, when Lydia wasn't super busy with her play), and Bradley had never had more fun in his life.

They had gone to the arcade, they had gone to the movies, they had gone to museums and amusement parks and malls.

Somehow, that odd, quirky girl had found a way into Bradley's heart.

He hoped he had earned it.

"Anyway…", he said, looking back at Mort. "It's just my parents that are bothering me."

Mort nodded knowingly. The subject of Bradley's parents and their… "Attentiveness" had been brought up many a time in their conversations.

Or, well, vent sessions for Bradley.

"What is it this time?", Mort asked, hoping it wasn't something too bad this time.

Bradley pointed at the crumby looking sandwich in his hands, a disgusted and disappointed look in his eyes.

"It's this sandwich. I mean, look at it! Does it feel like they tried? Like they felt anything making it? Like they cared?"

Mort gave Bradley a serious look. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, eh?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow. "I don't follow. This is a sandwich. Not an apple."

Mort face palmed. "It's an expression, dude!"

Bradley felt sheepish now. He prided himself on general knowledge. "Excuse me. But… What do you mean? How am I like… Them?"

He said that last word with clear and utter disgust, the idea of being anything like his horrible parents made him cringe and shiver.

Mort sighed. "Dude, you say they don't care. And I believe you. But do you?"

Bradley blinked, confused.

Had he not been getting better at this caring thing?

If so, why would someone as wonderful as Lydia be his friend?

As if he had read his mind, Mort answered the quarry.

"Now, don't get me wrong. You have been nicer and all that the last month, definitely happier. And I am happy for you."

He reached out from his seat to put a hand on Bradley's table, nearly reaching the latters hand.

Bradley stared down at it, not knowing how to respond.

"Which, I guess, proves Mort's point. Ha. Funny how that works.", Bradley thought.

"But think about it: When was the last time you asked anyone how they feel? Or how their day has been? Or if you can help? I don't think you've even asked Lydia that."

Bradley retorted. "Well, I did ask that nice old lady once if I could help her cross the street. Does that count?"

Mort cocked an eyebrow.

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Carry on."

Mort sighed again. "Dude, you've never ever asked me how I am. Now, I'm ok, don't get me wrong. I have no angsty backstories made by a desperate author who tried to make a character sympathetic to the audience…"

Mort and Bradley suddenly looked at the screen knowingly.

They turned back.

"But you should ask. Not because it will make people nicer to you. But because it's right."

Bradley at first wanted to fight back. To say that he is better than that, and that he is better than Milo, and that he is a "cool dude" too.

But that was the old Bradley.

The new one truly did want to know how to be better.

That time with Lydia was eye opening.

Bradley now knew that he wasn't the only person in the world.

Maybe it was time to really think that.

But a sad frown returned to his lips.

"But Mort…", he said with hardship, struggling to admit it, but forcing himself to. "I… I don't know how to. I've never done this before."

Mort smiled reassuredly. "Dude, don't worry too much. You really have improved recently."

He finished his point. "But you should think about it. You can be better."

Mort resumed his lunch period and Bradley resumed his thinking.

For most of his life, he had looked out for himself, for number one.

He had been selfish and self centered, desperately seeking approval and attention in a Milo centered world.

Heck, he was so lonely, his only friend was a freakin' snow globe!

And then…

Lydia swooped into his life and gave him something he hadn't had…

Hope.

She had done so much in so little time…

Could he really not give back?

Was he…

Was he like them?

Bradley shuddered at the very concept of being like his parents.

He was visibly disgusted by the very concept of being as negligent and distant as them.

But…

Clearly he was.

He sighed, his heart hurting.

Honestly, he wondered, why was he so surprised?

He had always been like this.

But…

Did he have to?

Lydia deserved a better friend.

Maybe…

Maybe he could be that friend.

And the moment Bradley thought of this, the moment he decided to be that better friend, his first test arrived: Lydia finally entered the cafeteria.

But unlike other times, Lydia didn't look very excited, or energetic, or even thrilled to be there.

Her cheeks looked odd, their usual bounciness now saggy and their red complexion not nearly as jolly as they were in the past.

Her eyes seemed a bit puffy, but that was probably because they were so tired, black rings nearly enveloping her pupils.

Her movement was erratic, more like she was making herself move towards the tables. It was definitely not her usual jumpy perkiness.

"Hey, guys! Like, how ya doin'?", Lydia asked, her voice slurred and a bit gravelly, like her voice was overworked.

She stumbled along, barely making it to Bradley's table.

She yawned heavily, nearly knocking Chad's head off with her outstretched arms.

"Careful! This head holds vital information!", he complained.

"Yeah, when I get swole…", Amanda barbed, and she looked at Lydia with worry.

Amanda was the only one who knew why Lydia was suffering, but Lydia had sworn her not to tell.

Lydia had also greatly undersold the hardship she was going through, so all Amanda really knew was that Corky was overworking them.

"Lydia… You ok?"

Lydia's body screamed no, but her voice contradicted with a fake cheerful "Yeah! Never better!"

Amanda made space for her friend to sit, but Lydia had something else to do first.

It had taken her nearly an hour, since she kept dozing off, and she had nearly burned her house down (and cut off 3 of her fingers), but at least she had done it!

Lydia flopped over to Bradley's table, nearly crashing onto the scratched up metal surface.

Bradley jumped, startled by his friends behavior.

He was supposed to be the walking zombie!

…

Wait, wouldn't that be "Walking Dead"?

How'd he miss that quip?

It was staring him right at the face!

I mean, it's not even that clever, it's the principal of the thing, you know?

As Bradley shouted at himself for missing the obvious joke, Lydia inserted her hand into her bag, and after removing a number of unrelated objects (a giant plastic sword that nearly poked Bradley in the eye, a chocolate bar, an ocean of script pages with pink marker and smiley faces that were now scratched up and nearly destroyed, a chocolate bar, massive amounts of money, a chocolate bar and finally, a horse mask), she finally lifted…

"Here you go, Bradley!", she said cheerfully, despite her drooping eye lids. "A BLT Sandwich made especially for you!"

Bradley silently gasped at this. Even he could tell that something was wrong about Lydia. She wasn't yapping, she wasn't jumping excitedly, and she clearly wanted to sleep.

Yet…

Yet she took the time to make him a sandwich.

His favorite, mind you.

"Woah…", Bradley said, still touched by the gesture, remembering that first time she had done that.

"I've got you.", she had said once.

That smile.

That gosh darn smile.

Bradley's heart nearly leapt out of his chest just thinking about it, and it pounded like a jackhammer.

What…

Damn.

What had he done to deserve this angel?

Lydia smiled widely as Bradley took the sandwich.

It was almost like she needed this moment.

Like Bradley's momentary approval was the only thing she had right now.

Lydia tried to pat his head, but she slapped his right cheek, the boy getting flustered, but not angry.

"Another improvement.", he noted.

"I still have work to do, but you can't say I haven't taken some major steps.", he thought, almost proudly.

Huh.

What a nice feeling.

Not hating yourself was so…

Quaint.

Lydia stumbled and swayed towards Amanda, and when she sat down, she slammed her head down on the desk, fast asleep.

As Amanda lifted Lydia's head and inserted her own arm as a pillow for her bestie, Mort stared at Bradley.

He mouthed "This is your chance."

Bradley, who struggled reading mouths, asked "Look, Mort, I am not a big Cher fan, but diss her in France? I'm not sure I can!"

Mort grunted, and he whispered, "Dude, ask her what's up!"

Mort looked at Lydia, concerned. "Something is clearly wrong."

Bradley nodded and he cleared his throat.

He hesitated (again, he was used to self preservation by not caring), but he hated seeing Lydia like this.

He's supposed to be like this.

Not her.

Not someone good.

"Lydia…", Bradley started, waving at her.

Lydia lifted her head.

"Who's Lydia? I'm George Bailey. I nearly drowned, and because of this, I lost hearing in…"

"Lydia, you're not in rehersal.", Amanda whispered urgently, hating this immensely.

Lydia groggily nodded. "Right, right. I, like, totally see that now, Carol."

Amanda shook her head. "Amanda?"

Lydia nodded again. "…Yeah. Yeah. Sleepy sleepy now."

Lydia crashed her head on the table, her eyes painfully closing.

Bradley shrugged at Mort, still unsure of how to do this, but he knew he had to pull through.

So he did something he had never done, and he moved his tray to Lydia and Amanda's table.

How could moving a table feel so jarring?

Did the walls really look like this from here?

Perspective, man.

So weird!

He cautiously prodded Lydia, who continued sleeping.

Amanda gazed at him, and her look spelt fear.

"Great.", Bradley thought.

"Now two people really want me to help."

This expectations thing that came with friendship was also exruchiatingly hard!

Was this why everyone avoided him? He was starting to understand!

So much investment!

Bradley felt like he needed a nap!

Now Amanda's looking at him impatiently…

Oh, yeah.

"I better get on with it instead of conducting an inner monologue.", Bradley thought sensibly, and he prodded Lydia again.

"…Wakey, wakey, pal?", Bradley tried pathetically, cringing as he said it.

But apparently, it did the trick, as Lydia shot up like a bullet wide awake.

"I was focusing! You know I was!"

Bradley blinked in confusion.

Lydia, now also confused, analyzed her surroundings.

Since when does the drama club have a cafeteria?

Or awesome girls with pink shirts?

Or cute boys with glasses?

Oh, wait…

"…Hi Bradley!", she greeted cheerfully, as if nothing happened.

She looked him over.

"What are you doing here? This isn't you table, silly!"

Bradley cleared his throat, as Amanda and Mort watched intently.

"Um, Lydia… I couldn't help but notice how…"

This was so hard!

Like, what if she didn't want to tell him?

Then what?

Small talk?

Mort didn't tell him that this required so much effort!

This couldn't get harder!

"How…", he struggled, an embarrassed smile forming. "Pretty you look in that shirt? Is it new?"

Amanda and Mort face palmed.

So did Bradley.

She always wore that shirt!

Like they all did!

Because apparently, unique wardrobes are a thing of the past!

I say, there used to be culture when I was your age! Culture!

Why, we had to march out 50 miles in the snow, with no water or a gall bladder, for just a glimpse of the new CBS sitcoms…

"Thanks, Bradley!", Lydia exclaimed excitedly, hugging Bradley so hard his eyes nearly popped out. "You have no idea what that means to me! I haven't heard anything positive since…"

But Lydia then stopped, realizing she was revealing too much.

It didn't matter.

She had to stay strong.

For them.

She lost her smile, and a frown returned.

"Um… Never mind."

Bradley didn't know what to say.

All he knew was that Lydia was overworked, but this much?

Something had to be up!

But he wasn't sure if he should act.

Why, they had barely known each other!

Sure, they hung out here and there, but really, he couldn't claim such a high placing!

He probably didn't belong here anyway.

Someone more qualified should help her.

What could he do?

But just as he began to leave, Lydia got a sudden flashback.

To something she was told last night.

And…

And…

No one saw it.

No one heard it.

She was sure she had hidden it.

But Bradley saw.

Bradley saw the single tear trickle down and splash down on the table, leaving a small but telling wetness on the table.

That's.

It.

"Bradley Nicholson may be many things…", he thought, a determined frown on his face.

"But a bad man he's not."

"…I hope."

He lifted Lydia from the table onto a sitting position, surprising her, and he held her by the face, staring intently into her eyes.

Bradley opened his mouth, and out came something he would have never said, but the moment got him, and he knew that right now, he didn't matter.

Lydia did.

"Want to go to the mall and Ice Cream place with me, Mort and Amanda?", he asked, an urgency in his voice.

"Say yes, you precious idiot!", he thought.

Lydia was going to say no (she had a shift at the Breakfast Burrito Place), but Amanda and Mort quickly replied with a yes, and Lydia could not let her friends down.

Especially since she was going to let down her other friends.

"Sounds…".

She looked at her friends.

No.

She had to do it for them.

"…Bingo bongo super duper FANTASTIC!", she exclaimed, a half real half fake smile plastered across her face.

She danced an Irish jig on the table, and then she walked off to Zack's table.

"What… Are you doing?", Bradley asked, Amanda and Mort both shrugging.

Lydia smiled groggily. "I'm taking lunch, sillies!"

She suddenly threw Zack into her mouth, and Zack, most of his body sticking out, his head inside Lydia's mouth, screamed.

"HOW DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?"

Suddenly, the doors were kicked down, and Cavendish and Dakota entered, looking alarmed.

"Scuse us.", Cavendish said, stepping over tables.

"Pardon, heroes for hire business, stay in school, which you are, but like, keep staying.", Dakota advised, as the duo approached Bradley's meat loaf from before.

They blasted it with a ridiculously huge gun.

"That's the end of that. "Little Shop of Horrors" is such a bad influence on all those inanimate objects.", Cavendish stated, shaking his head.

Totally normal sentence there.

Dakota agreed. "Next time, let's just show them "Toy Story". Then they won't try to eat humans."

"We can only hope.", Cavendish said, putting his hand on Dakota's shoulder.

The two then approached Zack.

"Hello, Zack! I see you're kind of busy, but your parents sent us to tell you that they love you.", Cavendish informed.

Dakota picked up a tube of rash cream. "Yeah, and you forgot your rash cream."

Zack sighed. "…Why me?"


	3. Ice Cream For Help

A few hours later, Bradley found himself once again sitting in front of the girl who had changed his life, and confused him so much with all the love she seemed to hold in her heart for someone as disappointing as him.

The last few hours had been enjoyable, at least.

Years of solitude and wallowing in resentment had made Bradley think that "hanging out" was an incredible treasure, a rarity that one could only dream of achieving.

Naturally, he assumed he would be let down by its tantalizing promise, that the golden fruit would not be as golden as it presented itself to be.

Thank god he was wrong!

Other kids may see it as a norm, but for Bradley, just walking around with people who didn't hate his guts (i.e, himself), was more refreshing than all that lemonade the girl scouts kept sending him.

Seriously, one summer as a girl scout, and they felt like they owed him forever!

Anyhow, after some going about, looking in stores for nothing in particular and talking about nothing in particular, the foursome had managed to convince Lydia in her drunken, delirious and tired stupor that she was in no shape to go work a shift at The Breakfast Burrito Place, and that it would be in her best interest to go to The Ice Cream Place.

Bradley knew something was wrong when Lydia hesitated. He may know not much about his new friend, but her hesitating about ice cream was utter madness!

When they had arrived, though, the group separated: Amanda had to conduct an important call (and judging from the urgent look in her face, it really was important. That, or Cake 'Splosion was being cancelled. Bradley didn't really care, so he didn't bother asking) and Mort had spotted Joni outside, apparently being chased by wise cracking raccoons toting machine guns, so he decided to come and see if she's ok.

"That's odd.", Bradley thought, bemused, as he carefully inserted his spoon into his white as snow vanilla ice cream and oh so slowly scooped up a proper and sane amount into his mouth.

As he drowned in the calming and soothing sensation of the soft and sweet delicacy, Bradley pondered Mort's departure.

"Since when does he think about Joni? Darn, that girl may be lonelier than me!"

Bradley shook his head.

"I mean, what did they go through to kickstart a bond? A project they had to work on together? That's hardly enough to…", Bradley started, before dropping his spoon on the table, its clatter with the plastic surface echoing across the sleepy parlor.

Bradley smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah. That's literally what Lydia and I went through."

That made Bradley wonder something utterly bizarre: "Does Mort like like Joni?"

The mere thought that Mort would ever be romantically interested in someone (Bradley was sure the boy was aromantic to the max) made Bradley titter. Not because Mort could never: He'd probably be a great partner!

It was just that the boy always seemed interested in other things, and that make out sessions with Joni were not on that exclusive list!

"Why, the chances of Mort being in a relationship with Joni are as likely as the chances of me in a relationship with anybody!", Bradley joked to himself, before a familiar pang of loneliness struck his heart.

God damn…

He really was alone.

"ZZZZZZZZ! Shnork! Don't worry, Drake, I'll help you… Reherse…"

Oh, yeah, he wasn't alone.

His only friend was ko'd in her ice cream bowl, snoring and blabbering nonsense.

As stated before, Bradley struggled to sympathize with others.

But the grey boy couldn't help but feel for the once so sunny girl, the one who's smile was so infectious, the one who showered everyone and everything with so much love, now looking so down in the dumps.

Or, well, ice cream.

Bradley felt outraged at the mere thought.

Sure, he sucked, so he deserved all that soul crushing angst he felt, but Lydia?

Who could ever look at her and say "she deserves sadness?"

Bradley still found her odd, but he felt that someone so pure deserved much better than this!

Much better than him…

Bradley lifted her face and up from the bowl came Lydia with a nose, upper lip and chin covered in chocolate strawberry ice cream.

She almost had a dreamy smile, the dark black rings around her eyes softening, and her face seemingly at peace for the first time in forever.

Bradley found himself almost blushing, a small but pleasant smile forming on his lips.

She was a total gremlin, a girl who pitched movies at every opportunity, danced on tables, and communicated with inanimate objects, but in that moment, Bradley found the oddball of energy almost…

Beautiful.

Her eye lids fluttered open, and she slurred out a "Hi, Bradley. What can I do for you?"

Bradley felt a pang of sadness.

She was supposed to be resting, yet here she was still trying to help others.

What the heck was going on in her life that was making her into an exhausted zombie?

Lydia nearly nodded off again, her head sailing into the table, but Bradley kept it up with Lydia's favorite stuffed animal, her giraffe that she had won back when they were working on the project.

"How odd. She still hasn't told me his name.", Bradley thought as he propped her head up.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Probably still looking for some dumb pun."

The boy laid his head on his hands and continued to wallow in his thoughts.

The parlor was now deathly silent, which was a rarity when Lydia was present.

It only heightened the uneasiness in Bradley's heart.

Mort would have told him to do something by now, he figured, but Bradley was still unsure of how to do it.

He could ask what's going on, but Lydia would probably lie to stop his worrying.

He could offer to help her, but she'd probably reject his aid.

He could sneak into the drama club and figure things out, but he felt that she would be angry at him instead.

And besides…

He didn't really feel like it.

NOT that he didn't care.

Just…

OH!

Bradley felt like smashing his head on the glass pane window of the parlor, that overlooked the busy streets of Danville, so he did.

As a bright red spot popped up on his throbbing forehead, the impact of the hit reflecting the storm he felt inside, a snow flake fell.

Bradley watched it fall down helplessly, a mixture of pity and sadness on his face.

He knew, deep down, that it was hard for him to stop thinking about himself.

That sense of self preservation was very strong, and right now, Bradley felt that hiding in his room and sulking was a very attractive possibility.

But…

That was the old Bradley.

He had killed him, no?

Had he not, when he let this wonderful girl into his life, when he had given himself a second chance?

No…

He…

He wasn't like them.

No matter how hard it seemed, Bradley did want to care for others.

But it was so hard!

What had they done for him?

They had ignored him, ridiculed him, shunned him!

They didn't care!

But…

Lydia did.

Bradley looked at the window, his reflection staring back at him.

He…

He hated this selfish, egotistical, self serving jerk.

He hated this uncaring beast, who lashed out at everyone, even those who bothered to check on him.

Only Lydia…

Only Lydia had managed to get this beast to act human.

He sighed wearily, looking back and smiling slightly.

He guessed that maybe this was his first step: At least he should care for those who bothered to care about him.

About those he likes, heck, even…

Loves?

No.

He shook his head.

He wasn't capable of love.

But he was capable of care.

And as he stared at the only person who had ever given him the time of day, as he gazed at her sleeping form on the scratched up table, he couldn't help but feel a pain in his heart.

No.

This time, just for once, Bradley would give a crap!

He forced his unco-operating legs to move for someone else.

He forced his brain to address someone else.

He forced his heart to beat to someone else's tune.

He marched up to her, and he shook her awake.

She snored.

Bradley blinked and shook her again, trying not to hurt her.

She slept on.

"Five more minutes, Squidward…"

Bradley tried to suppress a chuckle, and he shook her again.

She still dozed off.

Bradley, finally losing his patience, pulled out an air horn and blared it in her ears, making Lydia leap into the air, startled.

"I'M SORRY! I'M LISTENING! I'M LISTENING, OK? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TREAT US LIKE SH…", but Lydia stopped when she saw Bradley.

"Oh, hey, Bradley! Like, 'sup?", she asked, smiling brightly.

Despite all she was going through, Lydia was happy to see her friend.

Bradley looked at her with concerned eyes, eyes that radiated feelings he didn't know he had. "Lydia, I need to ask you: Can I help you with whatever it is you're going through?"

Lydia yiped and gulped, not liking where this was going.

She had to keep it a secret, otherwise her friends would never allow her to continue!

"What?", she said, and she blew a raspberry. "I'm fine! I'm cool!", she waved his concerns away. "I don't need any help!"

But when Lydia looked at the time, and thought of how she had to spend the rest of the evening (and unbeknowest to her parents, the night) practicing, she felt that she could really use companionship.

She had never known this feeling, what with her introversion allowing her to reach out to anyone, but thanks to the secret she kept now, Lydia felt something she had never felt before: Utter loneliness.

No one could really understand her. Not even her bestie, Amanda, which made Lydia sad.

Besties shared everything!

And she was breaking the best friend code she and Amanda had made up when they were kids!

That contract still hung proudly on Amanda's wall, and Lydia had vowed to not break the 6 year old's contract.

But here she was, doing just that!

And besides, she felt so alone.

So, so…

Alone.

She felt another tear coming, and she karate chopped it.

She had to stay strong!

But maybe…

Maybe she could afford one night of assistance.

JUST ONE!

Just one, and she wouldn't complain again.

She rubbed her eyes and looked at the calendar.

Just one more week…

And she'd be free again.

Free to be happy again.

Just one.

More.

Week.

Lydia took a deep breath and she looked at Bradley, still viewing her with concern.

"You know, Bradley… I could perhaps use some help… This evening, at my basement…", she said, yawning as she stood up, looking so drowsy.

"Maybe you could help me reherse. They, I mean, me, me, just me, ME, LITERALLY ME, JOJO REFERENCE, BUT YOU KNOW THAT, I could use some help."

Bradley nodded.

He didn't want to…

But it wasn't always about what he wants.

"I understand. It's not my idea of fun, but…"

He looked at her.

And he made up his mind.

"You're my friend. And friends help each other."

Lydia suddenly grinned widely.

Bradley considered her a friend?

And he was willing to help?

She…

She couldn't believe it!

She was wrong about him back then!

He really was a sweetheart!

Just hearing someone care for her, someone want to help her made Lydia so happy, she twirled right there on the spot, almost feeling like herself again.

"YAYSIES! I'm super duper bingo bongo excited! Like, thanks for being totally awesome! I knew you were a sweetheart!"

And after letting out a big cheer and a leap into the air, feeling the magic inside again, Lydia did something she never thought she would do, and neither did Bradley:

She moved up close to him, and, on her tippy toes, she gave him a sloppy but passionate kiss on the cheek!

It rung so loudly that everyone could hear it, even Amanda, who was looking from her phone with oddly damp cheeks, and Mort and Joni from outside, Joni looking down ashamed and Mort looking distracted.

Bradley, meanwhile, turned a shade of crimson he had never thought possible as Lydia skipped off and gulped down her ice cream in one swoop.

She licked her lips and looked at Bradley's bowl.

"You finishin' this?", she asked, her mouth full.

Bradley didn't respond, so Lydia took it as a yes, and she swallowed the whole thing too.

"Like, yummy tastic!", she yelled, and she went to the counter.

"Thanks a bunch, mister! You are the greatest man I've ever met! Here are invitations to my funeral, marriage and DMV lessons! Black tie only!", she told the hapless ice cream seller, and she ran off into the street doing the Club SpongeBob holler while wearing a horse mask.

"I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD!", she shouted.

Bradley, meanwhile, just stood there, dumbfounded.

To his insane gratitude, Amanda, Mort and Joni had all missed the kiss, and he was left alone to comprehend the fact that he just agreed to help an optimistic and weird girl with rehersing.

In her house.

Oh, and she kissed him.

As Bradley felt his burning cheek, the odd pleasure of the moment still lingering, he smiled.

Had he really just done something this good?

Yes…

Yes he did.

He took a deep breath.

"…I can do this."


	4. The First Step

"I can't do this!"

About an hour later, Bradley was back home in his lonely and lifeless room, pacing around the place, panic and confusion filling his thoughts.

"I can't believe I dug this hole! It's going to be a disaster! A catastrophe! An oopsie of epic proportions!", Bradley cried, gripping his hair in terror.

He turned to Snowy, his beloved snow globe knick knack that obediently sat at its perch on Bradley's empty wooden desk.

The snow globe couldn't talk, of course, but Bradley had picked up the habit of talking to the object from Lydia, and he felt the need for some advice.

"Snowy, what do I do? I'm…", Bradley started, before imagining Snowy's response.

He frowned, frustrated. "Ok, that's not fair! I am not chickening out because I don't care!"

It almost felt like Snowy gave Bradley a cocked eyebrow, failing to believe that the cynical boy could ever care for anyone but himself.

Bradley felt betrayal, and he showed it with a over dramatic gasp.

"I really did try out there! You should have seen me!"

Bradley described the previous events, a little bit of pride seeping out from his sentences.

"I asked her how she is! I tried to figure out what her problem was! I offered to help! Why, I'd say I did a fantastic job!"

He then sighed, his shoulders slumped. "Do you know how hard it was, to force myself to do all that? How close I got to being emotionally hurt?"

As he looked at Snowy, he could swear that the snow globe had a disapproving look, even though the object had no eyes, nose or mouth.

He grunted, disliking the direction the conversation had went. "What do you mean it's obvious? It's not to me! I don't have any friends! No one ever gave a crap about me! So why should I? Just trying to show interest in how someone else feels is incredibly hard!", he shouted, his eyes widening in anger and his mouth twisting to a growl.

How could no one see that he was the victim here?

How could they not see that caring about others was dangerous and stupid and…

Bradley had a moment of realization, and he sunk to the ground, ashamed.

"…What kind of monster am I?", he seemingly asked no one.

He took his phone out, and the opening wall paper nearly made him tear up.

A picture of the two, taken by Amanda, showed Lydia leaping into Bradley's arms, about to squeeze the living bejesus out of him.

Bradley seemed a little annoyed, but a small smile could be detected.

In fact, it was easily the happiest picture Bradley had ever taken.

But for once, Bradley did not gravitate to himself (though he had to admit, he was looking mighty fine that day! Hair gel was really sticking out that day!).

Instead, his eyes slowly darted to Lydia's part of the image.

The girl looked the same as ever, true, but it was starkly different from the girl he had seen today.

In fact, it was downright the opposite of the girl who had kissed him today, of the girl who looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Bradley felt that pain in his heart again as his thumb brushed over the grinning face, the closed eyes, the blowing hair of his friend…

No, his only friend…

She was so happy then.

And now she looked like her life was over.

And what did he do?

He whined about how hard it was to care.

…

Bradley got up.

He looked at the picture of himself and his parents.

He saw them.

His parents.

"Not now, Bradley", they said.

"Hugs are for little kids, Bradley."

"When will you grow up, Bradley?"

"Stop making so much noise, Bradley!"

"We can't play now, Bradley. We're busy."

They hadn't said good night in years.

Bradley's fists shook in rage.

His palms felt the sharp edges of his nails as he dug them in.

His face contorted with pain and anger and fear.

How could he have been so blind?!

How could he have been so selfish?!

Lydia…

He had treated her like dirt, he had called her a weirdo, he had insulted her, he had been nothing but mean to her, and all she gave him was kindness!

The love and attention he so desired were supplied by Lydia, and not because she needed to.

But because she wanted to.

She cared.

And she cared immensely.

…

The tears streamed down as he remembered it all: The sandwiches, the hugs, the games, the laughs, the compliments, the apologies, the interest in what he has to say…

…

The kiss.

He shook with rage, his teeth gritting uncomfortably and his eyes stinging with tears.

How could he have been so monstrous?

Mort was right: He didn't care.

And worst of all: He had done it for no real reason.

Lydia had done nothing wrong, and here she was, suffering for some god forsaken reason!

And what had he done?

He had whined!

He had complained!

He was no friend!

He was a…

A parasite!

Bradley narrowed his eyes at his reflection.

Sure, the world had treated him pretty poorly over the years, but that didn't mean he could just lash out at it!

He had to be better!

He would be better!

Right now!

Some people deserved kindness…

He wanted to make sure no one would feel like he did again.

If they all felt this alone…

He'd make sure they didn't.

He'd make sure they were happy.

Because if they felt like him…

Then they weren't living, were they?

He looked at the picture…

And he punched it.

The glass fell on the floor, and he ended up cleaning it up, but he didn't care.

That Bradley was dead, officially.

That uncaring monster was gone.

So he was going to a girl's house!

So he was going to spend an evening doing something he didn't totally want to do!

So he was going to have to make an ounce of effort!

Lydia had given an effort to help him!

The least he could do was return the favor!

He had to!

It…

It was the right thing to do.

He clenched his fist, and, with tears still filling his eyes, he went downstairs.

Dinner was ready, and he had to explain to his parents that he was giving a crap about someone who wasn't him.

And…

In a weird way…

He felt lighter.

Like…

Like he was finally living.

It felt good to do good.

Ha.

Who would have thunk?


	5. Speaking The Unspoken

"How are you handling that final quarter?"

"Oh, it's been a nightmare! We're losing customers, no one is functioning, and I've even heard of the possibility of lay offs!"

"Same at our company. This means we're going to need to put some real all nighters. Don't worry, I'll help you."

"Thanks, dear."

"You're welcome."

The clinking of forks and knives, the business chatter, the small but evident chewing noises…

One would say that there was much noise to be heard, but Bradley knew the telltale sound of silence.

He stared down at his lukewarm vegetable soup.

A small, pathetic looking potato floated up to the surface of the bowl, looking very unappetizing.

Bradley cringed, and he picked it up with his fork and subtly threw it away into a near wastebasket.

He stared back at his parents, worried that they noticed his garbage clearance.

But honestly, he shouldn't have worried.

Of course they wouldn't notice.

The white dining table cloth was neat and proper, the vegetable soup was adequate, and outside of some business talk, no one really made conversation.

Bradley sighed and leaned his head on his hand, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

When he was younger, back when there was love and life in his eyes, Bradley would try to talk to his parents about… Well, anything.

He'd tell them about those cool sneakers with lights that he'd wanted, he'd tell them about that cute Melissa girl who would pass his house on the way back home, he'd tell them about the things he wanted to do with them.

They were always on the to do list.

They were never checked off.

Bradley sighed again as he stared at the digital clock on the ancient microwave.

19:30.

God, had it really only been 5 minutes?

It had felt like an eternity!

Like all the other times they ate together.

You know, once in a blue moon, when they weren't too busy.

Bradley hated family dinners.

They were a lie, a pretension of closeness that would make for a great picture on a family therapist's case files.

Soup was supposed to warm you up, but Bradley felt cold.

He could be out there, helping Lydia, making her feel better.

Instead, he was surrounded by people who didn't care.

Well, maybe if he hurried up, he could get out of there.

"Um… Mother? Father?", Bradley started, to no response or acknowledgment.

"…So far so good.", he thought, annoyed.

He cleared his throat, just in case. Perhaps he should give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe there was a frog in his throat.

Suddenly, a frog leapt out of his throat.

"Sorry, man, just diving in here 'till the heat drops down.", he said with a gravelly voice.

Police sirens blared, and the frog leapt up in fear.

"It's the fuzz! I better hop out of here!"

He suddenly gave Bradley a death look.

"Tell anyone, and I'll make you so dead, flies won't freakin' fly over you!"

The frog leapt out, disappearing into the night.

Bradley, mouth agape, stared at his parents.

They said nothing, as they were too busy in their own little worlds.

"Well, isn't that nice! A fugitive frog threatens my life, and no one notices!", Bradley thought, teed off.

He tried yet again.

"Mother, Father, I must be going to a friend's house. Would you be able to drive me back?", he asked, hoping for some sort of response, even a nod.

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Bradley tried to ignore the pain of that silence and thought that maybe he should eat the soup up and zip out, but one look at the "delicacy" in the bowl, and Bradley knew that the only place he would be zipping out to would be the infirmary.

For a second, he felt a little giddy.

Heh.

He was going to a girl's house!

Not that he saw her like that (she wasn't ugly or anything, far from it, he just didn't feel that way… He thought), but just the thought that he was going to go to a girls house and it wasn't some sort of daydream was a bright spot in an otherwise terrible evening.

But, no time for distractions!

Back to the mission at hand!

Bradley knew he had to dump the soup, but he thought that surely they'd notice that.

They weren't the most intuitive parents, but some things everyone notices!

Bradley gulped as his arms outstretched to the bowl, cautiously looking to both sides.

No response.

Dad was busy admiring the tablecloth and Mom was on her phone.

Ok.

Showtime.

Bradley lifted the bowl, hoping that he could blend to his surroundings, like a chamelion.

As he slowly lifted it, Bradley began to grin.

"This is quite easy! I'm doing a splendid job! They won't notice a thing!"

His smug expression felt earned for once.

"Looks like you've finally proven that you're pretty capable yourself, Bradley…"

But Bradley failed to account for potentially warm spots under the bowl.

"YEEEOOOOOWWWWCCCCHHH!"

Bradley screamed and sputtered as his fingers burned, and he bounced the bowl from one hand to the next, hurting himself in the process.

He got buggy eyes and pointy hair as he leapt up into the air and dropped the bowl, the dish smashing into pieces across the floor.

Bradley hit the wall, his back now hurting a bit, and he looked up, breathing hard.

Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson were actually looking at him!

Finally!

They were doing their goddamn job!

Mr. Nicholson cleared his throat and stared at his son, but he had no idea what he about to unleash when he opened his mouth:

"Are you ok, son? What was that sound?"

Bradley's eye twitched.

There was glass everywhere, he was lying on a wall, clearly hurt, and they still didn't know what was going on?!

Heck, Mother was still on her phone!

That's it.

That was the final straw.

Bradley stood up and dusted his clothes, a mad look in his eyes.

"I'll tell you what that sound was. That was me accidentally dropping a bowl of your soup on the freakin' floor!"

He marched up to them, glaring, furious.

"That was me smashing into a wall!"

He was fuming now, the anger and frustrations of years bursting out suddenly and intensely.

"That was the sound of years of me existing, and you failing to notice!"

Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson looked shocked at Bradley's behavior, failing to understand where he was coming from.

"Bradley, what's gotten into you? You never behave like this!", Bradley's Mom said, surprised at this outburst.

Bradley took on a sarcastic smile as he faced his mother. "Shocked that you noticed, Mom! I guess you did pay attention to me at least once in the last 14 years!"

Mr. Nicholson began to open his mouth, but Bradley refused to let him have that privilege.

"No, you don't get to talk!", he shouted, a growl forming on his mouth.

He stepped back, looking at the two people he called "Parents", but who hardly acted as parents.

"For 14 years you've barely recognized my existence. For 14 years I've felt nothing from you, and I am tired of it!"

Bradley's Dad finally found the opportunity to speak, and he took it.

"Why, Bradley, you know that's not true! We're just very busy…"

Bradley held his head, exasperated. "I know you are, that's not why I'm angry! I know that you need to work, what do you think I am, a protagonist in some cookie cutter children's film in the mid 2000's?"

He looked at them with disappointment fueling his eyes.

"I know that you are busy. But you've been too busy for me for 14 years!"

His eyes began to fill with tears now as he felt all the pain of the last 14 years, all the heartache and sorrow he had felt, wishing for the love that was always advertised as obvious.

"…Do you know that you haven't asked me about school since the first day of kindergarten? Not once since then? Did you know that I have no friends? And that the only one I have is a girl? Whom I met a month and a week ago?"

The silence spoke volumes.

"Did you know that I am jealous of the Murphy kid? Because he has friends, and he has a heart? Did you know that I regularly visit the museum? Did you know that I hate every meal we've ever had?"

He really began to get emotional now, his soul bursting on the canvass of life.

"Did you know that I was in love with someone for about 8 years? Or that I dressed like a girl for ultra specific reasons a while ago? Or that I mourn a soft serve machine named Carla? Or that I hate myself?!"

Bradley's voice cracked on that last one.

He gave them a sad, lonely look.

"You… You haven't said good night to me in so long. You haven't hugged me in so long. SO long. I… I just wanted some love. Some attention. Something. Something."

He began to weep, his cries echoing across the dining table.

"But… You don't care. Not really."

He shook his head, holding in his anger.

"You never did care. How could you? You didn't have time. And thanks to you… I didn't care about others as well."

He shook in rage.

"I became the thing I hate most: You."

He breathed heavily, almost finished with his tirade.

"I don't want… Others, they suffer. I… I don't want them to. I know what it's like… To be alone. To be hurt. If… If I can stop that… Even for a moment… Then maybe… Maybe I'm not so bad."

He thought of Lydia.

She NEEDED him.

He had to help.

Now.

"Someone needs my help. A friend. Someone who cares. Someone… Someone who cares about me. I can't call myself her friend if I'm not willing to do the same."

He turned his back to them.

"You know… I was afraid of caring. I was afraid I'd get hurt. It's easier… To hide. And not try."

He turned his head, giving them one last look of disappointment.

No love was to be found in his eyes.

"But I'm ok with getting hurt… 'Cause I just might find the right people. The people who love me. And who I love back."

He glared at them.

"…I guess you're lucky. You'll never be hurt. You don't know how to care."

He walked off.

"I swear… Even if I don't deserve anyone… Even if I really am a piece of crap… At least I'll never be like you."

He opened the door.

"I'm going to try. And that's more than I can say about you."

He took a step out.

"Don't wait up for me. I'm sleeping at her place."

He locked the door.

And left a shocked, startled, and utterly speechless Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson behind.

Bradley looked at the moon, yet somehow, felt the warmth of the sun.

He closed his eyes.

Bradley was dead.

And Good Bradley was hopefully here to stay.

"Well, Lydia… Here I come."

He began to walk down the road of destiny, his first real challenge awaiting him.


	6. House, Bradley, Bradley, House

Some time later, the night sky's pitch darkness was broken up by a lonely lamp post light that illuminated Bradley, the one bright spot in the black cloak of the area outside Lydia's house.

The young boy looked up to the suddenly imposing door, which was ironic since it was adorned with a friendly sign that said with big bold letters "Welcome!".

It was rainbow colored, and Bradley spotted the sparkling glitter that shined in the night sky, like small stars.

He smiled softly, able to tell Lydia's handiwork immediately.

"She does love her glitter…", he thought, and he fixed his attention back to the door.

…

This felt extraordinarily hard.

Not the helping part, mind you, he had already overcome that problem.

It was just the whole concept of going to anyone's house that was foregin to him.

But he would persevere!

Once the butterflies stopped fluttering in his stomach.

Ugh.

He had always hated that expression!

As if butterflies could possibly do that!

"Hey, pal, what's with the doubt? We doin' an honest work, 24-7, you know? No need to complain!", a butterfly with John Ratzenburger's voice burst out of Bradley's stomach for a second, before coming back, with a surprising lack of damage to Bradley's self.

Bradley looked at the sky in annoyance/confusion.

"What the heck is up with all the animals coming out of my body? What else is in there?"

A kaiju popped out of his ear.

"Buddy, you don't want to know!"

Bradley decided to stop asking questions he didn't want to know the answers to.

Finally, he mustered all his confidence and he knocked on the door.

A few moments later, after many loud crashing noises, as if Lydia was running down the stairs in panic because she forgot that Bradley was coming…

Which she did…

The door was opened, and Lydia came out.

At least, Bradley thought it was Lydia.

Her usually wavy and pretty brown hair was now missing its yellow head band, and was all over the place, looking more like an afro than anything else.

She was clearly distracted, seeing as she was wearing her dark orange, plaid patterned sleeve dress, but her skirt was replaced with her pyjama bottoms and she also had an oven mitten hanging off her nose.

Her eye lids drooped, despite the massive mug of coffee she held in her hand, the other hand busy handling a mountain of props.

Oh, and she also looked very groggy.

And…

Was that a colored on moustache?

Bradley stared at all this in shock and concern.

Sure, Lydia was odd, but this was different!

For one, she'd never wear mismatched clothes unless it was for a joke, and this was not a joke.

Secondly, the mountain of props didn't fit the mug of coffee theme, hereby disturbing the order of the potential joke.

Finally, there was no goofy grin adoring her pretty face, no wink and nudge, no fireworks show…

Clearly, Lydia was not handling the production of her life, and whoever was the new director was making some increasingly odd choices.

And Bradley Nicholson was going to find out, even if it meant firing the director mid production!

…

Wow, this girl really has been changing him.

"…The moustache just popped up. I… I'm honestly not sure how."

But something in Lydia's forlorn and ashamed look down to the floor told Bradley something else.

"Well, at least you finally have facial hair.", Bradley tried, hoping it would cheer her up a little.

Instead, she sighed. "I kind of hoped it would be cooler than this…"

"Oh, sorry. I… I didn't realize that."

An awkwardness occupied the space between them, and Bradley wondered what should be the next step. Should he invite himself in, seeing as Lydia has been avoiding help, or should he be polite and wait for Lydia to let him in?

"Are you BRADLEY?!", a voice suddenly boomed from inside, and Bradley was pulled in violently by two unseen people.

"Never mind… I guess the answer was "get pulled in by a couple of maniacs"." Bradley thought as he was dropped in the kitchen, face to face with…

"Hello, Bradley! We're Lydia's parents!", Lydia's Dad, a large, barrel chested man with short brown pudding bowl hair and an oddly shaped nose said, with a pleasant smile that illuminated the room.

"Lydia has said SOOOO much about you! We are totes excited to see you!", Lydia's Mom, a tall, thin, excitable woman with bright red hair that waved down and a spring in her step enthused, hugging him and accidentally rubbing off some lipstick on Bradley, who was surprised (but not annoyed) by the extreme affection.

"Ooh, let me get that for you, you have a little schmutz here…", Lydia's Mom said, and she began to wipe it off with some spit.

As Bradley got the schmutz removed, Lydia's Dad shook his hand enthusiastically, shaking Bradley up and down.

"I must say, we weren't sure about you at first, but Lydia was so excited that you were coming! Why, she ran upstairs and fell right asleep to prepare for you! She even painted on a moustache!"

"Is that… Normal, here?", Bradley, who was resetting his glasses, asked, confused by the energy of Lydia's parents.

Wait, no, they're Lydia's parents, of course they're weird.

It's just…

Is this what parental affection is like?

It felt…

Nice.

Bradley couldn't help but grin, amazed at the experience.

"No, the moustache isn't normal…", Lydia's dad answered Bradley's question from before. "But the excitement is! Lydia is always talking about how smart you are, and how funny you are! Why, she even named her…"

Lydia, who up until now was drooling and snoring, lying on the doorway, suddenly woke up and pushed Bradley out of the way.

"Ok, that's enough! You were marvelous as embarrassing parents, Mom and Dad, we will definitely consider your audition, but Bradley and I really need to hurry up! Don't call us, we'll call you!"

She looked concerned, almost as if a big secret was almost revealed, but it wasn't only that: Lydia felt that she needed to work on the play NOW, before it was too late.

There was no time for idle chit chat, even if she would have preferred to spend the rest of the night sleeping next to that doorway.

She sighed, looking blue.

Her life was nowhere near as fabulous as it used to be.

In fact…

It was downright depressing.

Maybe one day she could smile again…

But somehow, Lydia felt that it would be a long time until then.

After all, how could a failure be happy?

"Well, you have fun, you crazy kids!", Lydia's Dad laughed, his belly jumping with every chuckle.

"But not too much fun! Lydia will stay up all night, then!", Lydia's Mom added, a hand on Lydia's Dad's shoulders.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm staying up all night, but not because of fun…", Lydia thought as she dragged Bradley to the stairway.

"If you want any snacks, just holler!", Lydia's Mom reminded them as Bradley nodded.

"No problem, Mrs…"

"Holloway, dear."

"Holloway!"

Bradley smiled at the surprising charm of Lydia's parents, and then he took a moment to look at the hallway before he descended to the basement.

There were, as to be expected, a million knick knacks, but there were also an assortment of other interesting objects: Wooden cuckoo clocks, portraits of people around town (The one signed Serendipitacley looked familiar, but it was the one of Cavendish and Dakota aggressively making out that caught Bradley's attention the most. He didn't even notice the one of Hamosaur and Giant Pistachion doing American Gothic), animal plushies, Action Figures, and posters for dance productions.

But what caught Bradley's eyes the most in the purple orange hallway, were the pictures scattered all over the walls and the grand Piano.

Bradley had but a few moments to notice the pictures, but he managed to catch them all: There was a picture of Lydia's Dad leading the Danville Ballet troupe (he was very graceful, despite appearances, Bradley noted).

There was a picture of Lydia's Mom laughing as she mixed paints in her studio, alongside some girl Bradley didn't recognize, and what looked like Joni.

There was a picture of little Lydia, little Amanda, and Lydia's parents on the beach, Lydia and Amanda making a giant sand castle and giggling.

Bradley couldn't help but smile at that one.

There were a ton of pictures of Lydia in her drama club plays, decked out in lavish costumes, looking all dramatic, clearly having the time of her life.

And then there were pictures of Lydia next to her drama teachers.

All of them were friendly pictures, Lydia always looking really cheery, sometimes hugging the teachers in the photos.

All except one.

In one there was a bald, seemingly sour man that Bradley thought looked odd, and next to the man was Lydia.

But while the man had a forced smile, Lydia had an odd expression.

One that didn't feel right on her face.

One that felt distinctly…

Sad.

Depressed.

Wanting to be anywhere but here.

Bradley's smile dropped as he felt another pang of pain in his chest.

He was able to catch one last photo: Lydia hugging her mother and father tightly, the three all sitting on Lydia's bed.

Warmth radiated from all corners of the picture, from the closed eyes of the participants to their protective shell, the love shared between the family emanating very clearly from the photo.

One could almost hear the words "I love you" burst out from it.

Lydia especially looked so happy, never had Bradley seen such an expression of contentment and pleasantness from… Well, anyone.

Bradley turned his face back to Lydia, who was nearing the stairs to the basement.

Forlorn eyes, blue frown, small frame, as if she was trying to shrink from all sight…

This Lydia was nowhere near like the Lydia in the picture.

The Lydia that Bradley knew.

The Lydia that Bradley cared for.

As they made their way down to the basement, Bradley gulped.

He had to do all he could to rescue Lydia.

Hopefully, he'd be able to.


	7. I've Got You

Well, here we are: Su Casa Mi Casa!", Lydia announced as they arrived downstairs.

The basement was very much one that Lydia would design, Bradley noted with a wry smile.

The walls were dashed with rainbows and hearts, there were even more knick knacks than in her own room, multiple bobble heads, Funko POPs, Action Figures, books…

There was a sunflower, which Bradley observed for a moment.

It shone brightly, its petals large and magnificent, yet…

Simple and beautiful.

"Like someone I know…", he thought fondly, looking at Lydia, who leaned over the couch getting her papers ready.

Bradley glanced at his plant arm and sighed. Human…

He was no longer that.

He turned around, admiring the room.

There were bean bag chairs, there were plushies, of Lions, Cats, Sharks, and of course, the Giraffe, who stood high and mighty.

"What was his name?", Bradley thought, and he glanced down at a tag.

"…"

Bradley was speechless.

In fact, he was close to tears.

"…Bradley…"

He turned to see Lydia, her body straining as she got the props ready.

Her whole body language was of a tired, depressed soul.

Her eyes looked nearly shut.

What…

What could he do to help?

He kept looking around, and his heart only hurt as he observed one beautiful sign after another: Images of Amanda decorated a shrine in her favor, from moments of fun, to moments of sadness. Amanda was described in an inscription by Lydia as a genius, unparraleled in her brilliance.

"If only Amanda could see that…", Bradley thought as he kept looking.

There were pictures of her with her parents, pictures of her volunteering in soup kitchens, in charities, in blood drives.

In all of them, she grinned, giddy as a school girl.

There were inspirational quotes.

There were motivational posters.

There was an image of the earth, and a heart next to it.

Bradley sighed.

Did she really care that much?

Suddenly, he saw pictures of himself.

He neared, almost afraid of what beautiful things they could say.

"Bradley Nicholson is a boy I know. He's… A bit mean, sometimes. And he doesn't seem to care about others.", he read from the plaque, slowly and quietly, knowing that an emotional gut punch was coming.

"But the truth is, deep down, he's a good guy. And I am grateful to be his friend. Hopefully, I can help him be happy. He…"

Bradley looked up.

"Deserves it…"

Bradley didn't deserve anything.

At least, he didn't think he did.

And here was this girl, caring for him, of all people…

Caring for everyone, it seems…

Everyone but…

Lydia suddenly coughed, a very unhealthy cough that startled Bradley.

"…Herself…", Bradley thought.

He knew that he couldn't help her.

Not yet, that is.

He'd have to be smart to get her to reveal what's going on.

Only then, could he do what was right.

Bradley narrowed his eyes.

Lydia was so much better than he thought…

She wanted to help everyone.

Everyone but herself.

So…

It was his job to help her, now.

Before it was too late.

"I must bring back that smile… I must…", Bradley swore, and he sat down on the couch, awaiting Lydia.

Lydia had finished getting all the script pages (Bradley noticed that it was a lot of pages), and props out, and she sat down on the couch, nearly sinking into it.

She got herself out, and she reached over to a mini Fridge, which had a smiley face sticker on it.

Lydia pulled out a soda can and she offered it to Bradley.

"I don't know what you like to drink, but I thought this would be a safe bet. You like Cola?"

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck. "I… Don't usually drink this kind of stuff…"

Lydia raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you drink, then?"

Bradley smiled sheepishly. "…Water, I guess?"

Lydia couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Wow, how perfectly normal of you."

Bradley chuckled too.

He smiled and took the can, which left condensation on his palm. It was cold, but in a good way. "I… I guess I could try…"

He looked at her.

"For you…"

Lydia smiled warmly, and Bradley took a sip.

"What do you think?", she asked.

"…Perfectly disgusting.", Bradley commented, but it wasn't a mean jab, more of a friendly joke.

Lydia put her hands on her hips. "Just not perfect enough for you, huh?"

Bradley nodded. "I guess so."

The two teens laughed and smiled warmly.

It felt… Nice.

She… Was nice.

Even now, looking her worst, Bradley couldn't help but feel that there was some sort of… Beauty to Lydia.

He couldn't and didn't want to put his finger on it, but there was something.

She was like no other person he'd ever known.

"I wonder if this is what a date's like…", Bradley couldn't help but think as he put the can down.

For a while, there was just silence.

Pleasant silence.

Bradley then glanced over at the script, and remembered what he was here for.

"Um… The rehersal, Lydia?", he asked, trying to be gentle.

Lydia blinked in confusion for a moment, and then shook nervously. "Oh my god! The rehersal! Gosh darn it, I forgot!"

It had been so long since she could relax…

No, that's not true.

It had been so long since she allowed herself to relax.

It was so intoxicating, she had almost forgotten what was truly important.

She got angry at herself, closing her eyes in suppressed frustration.

"Stupid Lydia! Useless! Pathetic!"

Bradley was startled at this, and he'd already seem much of her odd behavior recently.

Lydia opened her eyes for a second, and noticed that Bradley was noticing, so she pretended that nothing happened.

"What? Oh, yeah, we need to reherse! My bad."

Bradley looked at her sympathetically as she got two scripts out.

Bradley spied with the corner of his eye more than two scripts, and wondered why Lydia would have so many.

"Here you go…", she said, and she handed to him one.

Bradley's eyes gazed at the title.

"It's a Wonderful Life"?", Bradley asked, confused by the forhgin title. He gave Lydia a questioning look.

Lydia gave him one back. "It's a Wonderful Life"? Only the most famous Christmas story outside of "A Christmas Carol" and "Gift of the Magi?"

Bradley shook his head. "Cleary, I'm not as cultured as you, oh wise one."

Lydia still couldn't believe it, and amused surprise filled her face. "Bradley, seriously, it's like, totally the most beloved Christmas story of all time! How have you not heard of it?"

Bradley suddenly flashbacked to Christmas' past. He would sit with one present that he asked for, but he sat alone as his parents continued to ignore him.

Unintentionally, perhaps.

But it still hurt.

You'd think that the Christmas tree would supply warmth…

But its light felt forgin to Bradley.

"…I just don't. Never… Really saw any Christmas movies."

Lydia decided not to address it any further, seeing as she felt bad for Bradley, but she still had to tell him the plot of the film.

"Well, let me re-cap it for you."

Lydia suddenly stood up and began to reenact the story.

"So, like, it all starts with George Bailey (played by ME!) who wishes that he was never alive!"

"Sounds cheery.", Bradley dryly commentated.

"Hold the phone, Mr. Critic!", Lydia retorted, and she gave him her phone.

"Cute gag.", Bradley said, a smug friendly smile on his face.

"Anyhow, George doesn't want to live, so he's like, IMA GONNA JUMP! But right before he can, there's like, a pause button or something, and an angel named Clarence, who's like, a bit of a screw up, majorly has never saved someone, and thus, has not earned his wings…"

"This is getting confusing. What kind of angel doesn't have wings?", Bradley asked.

Somewhere out there, Kurt Angel from WWE shook his fist at the heavens yet again.

"Doesn't matter! Anyhowsies, Clarence is shown a sort of "THIS IS YOUR LIFE" of George's, and we learn that George was actually a really nice, selfless, decent guy, a real super duper bingo bongo FANTASTIC guy who tried his best to help others. You know, like Captain America, Woody, Superman, Steven Universe…"

Bradley blinked in confusion. "…Who?"

Lydia tutted him. "I really need to educate you."

Bradley again smugly grinned. "Says the C Average student."

Lydia protested that, getting oddly defensive. "I am trying! It's been harder… Recently…"

She pouted, feeling very small and sad now.

Bradley realized he had gone too far, and wanting only to help his friend, apologized. "Sorry, Lydia. I didn't mean to hurt you."

The apology was genuine, and despite her hurt feelings, Lydia knew that.

"…Sorry. I know it was just a joke.", she said, smiling to show him that she forgave him.

She then almost fell off the table, but luckily, she stopped herself.

"Whew! That was close!", she said, ignoring the clear trouble she was in.

"Too close.", Bradley thought, his concern rising yet again.

"Where was I?", Lydia asked, scratching her chin.

Her eyes lit up as she remembered.

"A ha! Right! So, George did, like, a LOOOOT of stuff! Like, he saved his brother from drowning and lost his hearing because of that, he saved his father's business and used it to save the other townspeople from the evil clutches of Mr. Potter, the greedy conniving Banker! Na!", she described, impersonating Pantalone, the greedy Italian Merchant.

She did the Nixon salute as she said "I'm not a crook. Or, well, I TOTALLY am!", and Bradley couldn't help but laugh.

She could be so funny sometimes.

Lydia laughed too, and then she returned to her story.

"Anyway, George also married his dream girl, and he let his brother go to the job he wants, and a million other things! He even gave homes to everybody in the neighborhood!"

Bradley nodded, impressed. "I must admit, this George guy sounds like a really decent guy."

Lydia sighed in admiration. "Isn't he? I wish I could be like him…"

A twinge of sadness invaded that utterance, and Lydia looked at the horizon with despair.

Bradley wanted to say that she already was, but he decided to bide his time before he confronted the true problem at hand.

Lydia resumed her summery. "Long story short, George, thanks to a mistake by his absent minded uncle, is about to lose everything AND get arrested! And this entire time, all he ever wanted to do, travel the world, he was forced to give up on for others. So, in a fit of depressed rage, he yells at his family and friends, and decides to kill himself…"

"Are you sure this is a Christmas story? I thought they were all… Nice.", Bradley said, befuddled by the depressing story.

"Au contraire, mon ami!", Lydia said, and she booped his nose, which made Bradley blush. "Just before George does, Clarence, the angel from before, jumps into the river to make sure that George saves him so that he won't kill himself."

Lydia pretended to jump into a river and save herself, which is hard to describe, so instead of that, have a cute cat voiced by Jeff Goldblum talk about his favorite bread.

"Well, uh, I like Pumpernickle. It's… Eh, well, it's sort of really nice, and, uh, it's got that, you know, that sound, and the, and the seeds are arranged in interesting ways, and, uh, eh, well, the, uh, the sort of, the sort of, it has that… That… Oomph! You know, it's the… It's the, it's the little things in life, really. So, uh, yeah. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.", said Jeff Goldblum cat.

Anyhow, back to the show.

"After that, Clarence shows George what life would be like without him, and everyone in the city is shown to be living in a nightmare town, and no one is happy. His brother is dead, other people are dead because his brother wasn't a soldier, and there's this pharmacist…"

"I don't like Pharmacists. The one I met is a real maniac.", Bradley said, raising the ire of a million Doofenshmirtz fans.

"Whatever. Point is, George realizes that his life helped others, so he decides he wants to live again. And as he finds out, it didn't mean nothing: The town clear his name and raise money so that he can have his business!"

Lydia stood on the coffee table next to the sofa, her arms wide as she finished the retelling.

"And so, George realizes that it truly is a wonderful life! THE END!", she crowed, pretending to play a victory march on a trumpet, and finally bowing to Bradley's polite applause.

"Bravo! I liked the part where it was over!", Bradley joked, and Lydia smiled back.

"Thanks! But now, no more fun and games! We need to work on my scenes!"

Bradley took out Lydia's script, which of course was adorned with colorful stickers, pink marker and glitter.

It almost made him cough the amount of glitter she had put.

"Which page? What scenes are you in need of assistance with?", he asked, ready to take the job as seriously as possible.

Lydia took out a different script, one surprisingly lacking in any color or "fun", and she opened it on page 1.

"Ok, so the first scene is a collection of prayers. For George.", she explained.

"Is he in that?", Bradley asked, a hand under his chin.

Lydia looked a little nervous suddenly, as if she was hiding something.

"Um… Not exactly…", she said, knowing that she couldn't lie.

Bradley began to move the page. "Well, then, let's move ahead…"

"NO!", Lydia suddenly shouted, stopping Bradley from moving the page.

"…My finger.", he said bluntly. "Release it."

"Can't!", Lydia shouted again, looking for an excuse. "I… I We…"

"Yes?", Bradley asked, getting a tad annoyed.

Lydia released his finger and sat back.

"It's just I need to know the lines before my lines, or I won't know when to enter. It's important!", she said, and it was…

But Lydia knew that she wasn't telling the truth.

It hurt…

Having to lie.

But Lydia had a responsibility…

And with great power, there must also come great responsibility.

Bradley nodded, deciding not to pursue the matter further.

He flipped to the first page, and looked expectantly at Lydia. "So, to read the lines before, or…"

Lydia again interjected. "No! I mean, no, just read the stage directions."

Bradley raised an eyebrow. This script reading stuff was confusing. "Ok…"

He cleared his throat, and in an extremely monotonous voice, one that would have made Lydia laugh in the past, but now had no effect on her sad, lonely heart, he began to read out the stage directions.

"A bell rings a few times, and then stage light shines on sign that says "You Are Now In Bedford Falls". People pass and snow falls as a spotlight shines on certain characters who are praying as they walk".

Lydia cut in with the lines, all perfectly delivered, words, tone, inflections, you name it!

"I owe everything to George Bailey… Help him, dear father.", she uttered, in an old man's voice. She had an old timey suit with suspenders on, and a top hat.

She was even squinting her eyes!

And were those actual wrinkles?

"How is she doing that?", Bradley thought in amazement as Lydia moved on to the next role.

"Joseph, Jesus and Mary: Help my friend Mr. Bailey.", in a grown man's voice, not as old as the first man, but still pretty grown up. She now wore a simpler suit, with a simpler hat, and her eyes opened.

No wrinkles this time, ladies and gents!

…

Not sure why I had to explain that.

"Help my son George tonight.", she now said in a woman's voice, again dressed appropriately.

Bradley was incredibly confused. How was this helping Lydia? This felt like time wasting, and he had no time to waste! Lydia needed his help!

"He never thinks about himself, god, that's why he's in trouble.", she said, and Bradley cut in.

"I'd say that line was the closest to something you should say.", Bradley pointed out, suspicious.

Lydia tried to put on her regular outfit over the old ones as she answered him. "What do you mean?"

Bradley cocked an eyebrow. "Lydia, come on! Shouldn't you be reading lines of your character? This feels like a waste of time!"

Uh oh!

Lydia had to save her plan!

"No, no! It's not! It's just…", she started, unsure of how to convince him. "It's just… It's good to know the other lines, in case my fellow actors slip up!"

She tried to fool him with a bright smile, but even that pretty smile couldn't fool Bradley now, who was on the hunt.

"Really? Well, maybe we should skip over to the lines that are actually before yours! As you can see, there's a whole scene before we even get to the flashback here…", he said, beginning to read. "Huh, the angel really doesn't have his wings. How are you going to do the other angel who does have wings? Wires?", Bradley began to wonder.

"Actually, we were going to do a sort of shadows thing, and you can only see the angel with no wings when he fully appears.", Lydia explained, happy for the distraction.

Bradley nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Not bad."

Lydia grinned proudly, accidentally slipping out a valuable piece of information. "Well, it will be more than "not bad", since I am in charge of that!"

Bradley sputtered out in surprise. "How? You're on stage during this time!"

Lydia shook her head. "Oh, yea of little faith! I have my ways!"

Bradley got angry. This was going too far. "Lydia, this is ridiculous! You are practicing the wrong lines, and now you're also doing stage work?!"

Lydia tried to defend herself. "Now wait! We all need to do stage work! We're a small production!"

This was true, and Bradley calmed down, feeling sheepish. "Oh… I didn't know. Sorry for being so aggressive."

He cursed himself. "Come on,, Bradley! You have to be a jerk even when you're helping?!", he thought in his mind.

Lydia sighed in relief. So, the investigation was over!

"Well, where were we? Ah, yes, the lines before my lines! Gotta make sure I know my entrances!", she said, hoping Bradley would be content now.

But just because Bradley was annoyed with himself, didn't mean he was going to stop his search.

"Ok, but Lydia: You look exhausted. Surely there's more to this!"

Lydia gulped. Was he on to her?

"What… What are you talking about?", she said with an uneasy laugh.

She quickly grabbed another soda. "More cola?", she offered, with a shake.

"Lydia, be straight with me! Also, don't shake that, it will explode.", he pointed out, concerned.

"Oh! Right!", Lydia concurred, and she gently placed it down.

"Better?", she asked.

"Better.", he said.

He then resumed his investigation. "Now tell me!"

Lydia laughed nervously. "What is there to tell?"

Bradley fumed. "Lydia, what else are you doing besides the lines and the shadow work?"

Lydia tried to fool him. "Oh, nothing much, really. You know, I'm getting beat, maybe you can go away, and I will totally go to sleep and not actually keep training for the entire night…"

Bradley stood up, determined to find out. "No! I will not!"

He sighed. Anger was taking him nowhere.

"Lydia, listen… You've been acting weird for ages now."

Lydia stopped defending herself and she listened to Bradley. He looked…

Really worried.

Lydia wasn't used to this side of Bradley.

He looked distraught as he listed off his concerns.

"You've been falling asleep all the time during the day, you've been slurring, you've been acting weird… Er than usual."

"Oh, so now you notice that I'm weird?", Lydia joked, hoping he would drop the whole thing.

He didn't, of course, and Lydia sighed. How was she going to do the right thing with this guy getting into her business?

"And I may not know much about plays, but I doubt it involves knowing unnecessary lines! It makes me wonder…", he said, as he spied the telltale sign of scripts in her bag.

His hand reached over to the bag, and Lydia karate chopped it.

"Ow!", he cried, shaking the pain off his arm.

"Sorry, Bradley, but you can't look into my bag!", Lydia cried, and in a desperate attempt to rescue her rescue attempt, she took a bundle of scripts and aimed them at his head.

"This scripts a real knockout! Get it? Cause it's going to knock you…", she began, but Lydia was so tired she yawned and hit herself with the script.

As her head spun, she saw little sheep with Bradley's head jump over a fence with Amanda's head.

"So many pretty Bradley's…", she muttered, delirious.

"I'm a fence.", said Amanda the Fence.

"Word.", Said one of the Bradley sheep.

Bradley picked up the bag and leafed through it, digging up dozens of scripts, to his big surprise.

"Why do you need all of these? Surely one is enough!", he cried, and then he realized another oddity. "And how come none of them are decorated like this one?"

Lydia stood up, still a little dizzy from her recent knock.

Her head spun as she answered Bradley's quarry. "Oh, the others sometimes lose their scripts or they need help, so I printed all of them just in case…"

She was so tired…

How nice would it be to fall asleep in her cozy bed that didn't tell her off for existing…

Bradley once again scolded Lydia. "Lydia, how much did that cost you?"

He then pulled out a ton of receipts from different restaurants: The Breakfast Burrito Place, Chang's Chinese, Pulled Pork BBQ Hut, you name it!

"Why do you have all of these? Surely you're not eating so much...", Bradley pondered, confused.

Lydia was startled by this, and realizing what was about to happen, grabbed her bag, accidentally dropping the rest of its contents.

"Oh, Bradley! You know me! I'm just a really hungry girl!", she joked, and she began to eat the receipts, hoping Bradley would ignore them.

"Come on, Lydia! Even you can't eat all of that! You don't act so selfishly!"

He then noticed the fallen items.

A look of sadness, anger and confusion spread across his face as he glanced at all the things.

"What's this?", he asked.

Lydia jumped in front of him, panicking.

"NOTHING! NOTHING! SAY, HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK IN CERTAIN ANGLES? OR THAT I'M A GOAT MASQUARDING AS A HUMAN? WAIT, WAIT, BRADLEY! I AM YOUR FATHER!"

Bradley pushed her aside, ignoring her pleas, and he looked down on the floor.

There were a ton of props, from sleds to angel wings, to lassos, to a giant paper mache moon.

There were backgrounds for the stage, there were cardboard trees, cups, plates, glasses…

There were little notes about things that her fellow actors needed…

Bradley didn't get it.

"How did you get this all into your bag?", he asked, before realizing the real question.

"Wait, why do you have all this? Why, you have all the props, all the stage directions, all the backstage preparations, all the…"

Bradley turned to her, fuming.

He couldn't believe this!

"Are you telling me that the reason you've been a walking dead is because you're taking the whole play on yourself?"

Lydia looked down, ashamed.

"Not ALL of it… Just a teensy weensy bit more than the others…"

Bradley face palmed.

"Lydia, don't lie to me! This is everything, isn't it?"

Lydia avoided his stare.

Bradley gripped her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Lydia… Tell me the truth."

Lydia sighed, resigned to her fate.

She huffed and turned away from him.

"Yes! Ok? Yes, it is!"

Bradley shook his head in judgment.

"This is sad, Lydia! What kind of mad person takes all the work on themselves? You have other actors to help you, right? Why are you even doing this?"

Bradley, having been self centered for most of his life, could only see one solution.

"Was this some kind of sad attempt to get noticed? Like, is this some insane ego trip? I thought you were better than this…"

At first, Lydia wanted to stay silent. Maybe she could live with the pain in her heart if she didn't answer him.

But…

Being accused of selfishness…

After all she had done…

After all the work…

All the sacrifices…

All the pain…

Tears streamed down, as she turned to him, enraged.

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!"

Bradley scoffed. "Come on, Lydia! I know what a glory hound is! I am one!"

Lydia screamed at his, spitting out rage. "WELL I'M NOT YOU!"

Bradley was taken aback by this anger, but Lydia refused to back down.

"Do you have any idea, any semblance of an idea as to what I've been going through? I've been staying up all night learning all the lines, I've been planning all the backstage plans, I've been buying food for everyone in the drama club, and to do that, I've had to work in the Breakfast Burrito Place! I smell like that Dakota guy! Smell me, Bradley! SMELL ME!", she demanded, and Bradley politely refused.

She began to pace, getting angrier and angrier, her mask of happiness falling off in all its terrifying glory.

"I've been helping others with their lines, I've been designing costumes…"

Bradley noted the sewing kits and massive amounts of cloth on the floor.

"I've been designing backgrounds, I've been organizing the music, like some kind of insomniac DJ named Bo, I've been working my butt off for only two months, when we're supposed to have at least five months!"

She began to lose the anger, as the wave of sadness overwhelmed her.

"I feel… So, SO tired. All the fun I used to have acting… It's gone now. And I just wish… I wish it was over. I'm… I'm so exhausted."

Lydia's eyes, black rings engulfing them, looked at Bradley, and now you could really see how weak she was: Her body was frail, and she seemed thinner. Her face was pail, her mouth was dry and parched, her hands were shaking like crazy, and her knees did all they could to not buckle.

Bradley looked at her with sympathy he had never felt before.

She was clearly in pain, and not just physical…

One could tell that Lydia's heart was broken.

Almost beyond repair.

"But Lydia… Why?", Bradley asked, struggling to understand such…

Selflessness.

Lydia looked away, nearly broken now.

Her soul sighed, and she spoke.

"Our Drama teacher… He's a real jerk. And not like a "oh, he's a little mean, or something". He's… He's a bully. Plain and simple."

She hugged herself, feeling nothing but cold.

"He insults all of us… All the time. Calling us names. There's a girl he calls ugly just for having farm boots! Can you believe that?"

The atmosphere was chilling now, both parties just depressed now with the revelations.

"He started us late on purpose… He was too lazy to come up with something. And then he started blaming us for all the problems, even though we all tried. And… Like, we work and work and work, really seriously, giving up on things, making sacrifices, and we'll start rehersing, and two seconds later, he's stopping us for not being serious enough!"

She growled, her hate, hate she didn't know she had, growing with every word.

"He screams at us and pretends to be our friend, he belittles us, and he makes us feel like…"

She sighed, hating that she agreed.

"…He makes us feel like nobodies."

She sobbed for a second.

"…I just… I knew how much he hated me… I don't know why, he just did."

She turned to Bradley, still shocked at all this.

"But I couldn't let him do it to the others. They needed me. They needed the girl who always smiles."

She put her hands on her face, forcing a smile.

"So I did that. I pretended that Lydia wasn't dead inside. I did all these things, all this, to help them."

She pointed at herself. "Because they needed me. They were my responsibility! If I left… They would have had his rage focused on them. They would suffer. And that… That would be on me."

She sat down, lost.

"I… I had to do what was right. No matter the cost. And now… I feel like… Crap."

She broke down, tears flying down, her lips trembling and her face quivering.

"I just wanted to help! But I still don't remember all the lines! And the shadow thing isn't working! I tore the wings, and I forgot to eat breakfast, and my friends are unsure of their talents, and I haven't showered in days, and I suck, and I hate myself, and, and, and…", she began to tear at her own hair, hating this failure that was herself.

But Bradley broke in, stopping her.

"No! You are not a failure!"

Lydia continued to sob as she denied this truth. "YES I AM! I failed them all! I can't save them! I'm nothing! I'm a failure! He was right… I'm just a freak, who should be ashamed of herself!"

Bradley gripped her face, more serious than he had ever been.

"No… He's wrong. You are not a failure. You tried your best, and you've done more than anyone would have expected… More than anyone could have done!"

Lydia sniffled and sobbed, her eyes puffy and her face red.

Bradley caressed her face, his eyes almost loving.

"You've given them so much… You gave so much of yourself… You aren't selfish. You are the most selfless person I've known. Please… Don't give up.", he asked softly.

"You're… I wish I could be like you."

Lydia kept breathing heavily, and Bradley kept holding her.

"But this is… It's too much. You're hurting yourself. Look at yourself, Lydia!"

He held his phone to her face, and the reflection was… Eye opening, to say the least.

Lydia started crying again as Bradley continued. "You're hurting yourself… Maybe you need to take care of them, but who's taking care of you?"

Lydia crossed her arms. "No one needs to. I can take care of myself."

Bradley kept his stare. "Can you?"

Lydia's body shook, her soul still hurting.

"It doesn't matter… The show must go on. I… I need to work on the script. I need to know all the lines… I can never do the right thing if I don't…"

Bradley snatched the script form her hands, startling her.

"The right thing to do is to take a break! Go to sleep! Please…"

He started crying now, which shocked Lydia.

She had never seen him this emotional.

"I… This will sound… Selfish. But… Please… I can't see you hurt. You're… You're such an amazing person…"

Bradley began to really cry now.

"I've… I've never cared for others… Ever. How can anyone… Have so much love in their heart?"

He gripped her hands.

"I… I can't see you get hurt. If I can at least do one good thing in this horrible life of mine… At least let me help you. Please…"

Lydia stood up, ignoring him. "No! I… I must… I…"

Her vision suddenly got blurry…

"You don't have to do this on your own…", Bradley said, but she could barely hear him.

"What… I…"

Fuzzy spots appeared everywhere…

What was happening?

Lydia's eyes began shutting close, and she could only hear static.

Her heart beat quickly, and her body felt… Like thin air.

Like she was falling…

"Maybe… I deserve this…", Lydia thought, as she began to fall, her body collapsing onto the floor.

"Lydia?!", Bradley shouted as this happened.

"…Maybe… I really am a failure… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…", Lydia thought as she fell.

But just before she made contact with the ground…

Just before she gave up on everything…

Just before she gave up on herself…

Something…

No…

Someone caught her.

"Lydia… It's ok… You've done so much… And… And…"

Bradley finally spat it out.

"…I've got you."

The last thing Lydia thought before her eyes closed was "…Maybe he's right… Maybe… Maybe it's not too late… Maybe I can still help…"

And the last thing Lydia said before her eyes closed was…

"…Thank you."

As she fell asleep in his arms, Bradley held her up, almost barely (man, she was heavy! How noodely were his arms?), and carried her upstairs to her room.

Which was really hard, and his entire body was a sweat factory by the time he got up.

"I think I need to change my clothes AND my body after this!", he thought as he softly laid her on the bed.

She looked…

Silly.

Her arms were spread out wide, and drool went down the left side of her mouth as she snored loudly.

Bradley couldn't help but smile.

As he began to leave, he whispered…

"Sleep well, Lydia. You deserve it."

He then sighed and fondly said "…I promise you… From now on… You have someone holding your back."

He went downstairs, and for the first time in months, Lydia had a goodnight's sleep…

And Bradley felt at peace with who he was.


	8. All's Well That Ends Well

The next morning, Lydia woke up in her bed, and not on the couch in the basement.

For the first time in forever, she felt sort of rested (she still had a lot of sleep to catch up on), and for the first time in forever, she didn't feel sad or hurt.

In fact, she was downright confused.

What had happened last night?

She blinked the sand out of her eyes as she slowly but surely got up from the bed.

She noticed that Bradley the Giraffe was in her arms, and she smiled.

She then shook her head like a dog, trying to get herself wide awake.

"Well, I better get to it! I've got a lot of work, and…"

Lydia suddenly remembered all the work she had to do that she didn't do last night!

"OH NO! Like, this is totally the worst!", she shouted, panicking.

She began to pace back and forth, speaking faster and faster as she got more and more scared.

"I'vegottofixthewingsandreadthelinesandpracticeandmakefoodandhelptheothersandworkonthebackgroundsandbuysomemorepropsandandand…"

She almost let out a scream of panic, when suddenly her nose detected the comfortable (but right now, TOTALLY distracting) smell of…

Bacon sizzling on a frying pan?

"Oh no! Dad's probably making food!", Lydia shouted out, and she dashed down the stairs, cursing herself for taking too long to wake up.

What she saw was not her Dad, but rather something all together unexpected.

"…Bradley?", Lydia asked, incredibly confused.

Bradley turned around in the Holloway's kitchen, with an apron, some egg shell on his face, and a small, soft smile.

"Morning, sleepyhead!", he greeted, and he resumed work.

Lydia, sure this was some kind of fever dream, picked up a broom and slowly and tentatively approached "Bradley", if that's who he really was!

Bradley started slicing a tomato.

"Sorry if this isn't that good, this is my first…"

Poke!

Bradley turned to face Lydia, who held a broom to his face.

"I'm…", he started, but she proceeded to poke him twice more.

Poke! Poke!

Bradley rubbed his nose.

"Are you really Bradley?"

Bradley sighed, an eye roll emanating from his face.

"No, I'm Vincent Matella."

Lydia smiled, relieved now.

"Now I know you're Bradley!"

She poked him again, just for good measure, and then put the broom down.

Bradley didn't know what was funnier: The notion that he wasn't himself, or that Lydia's bed hair was one for the history books.

"I didn't realize it was 80's week.", he barbed, and Lydia quickly examined herself in a mirror.

Her hair was an absolute mess, looking like an afro from hell.

"…Finally!", she remarked happily, and she turned back to see Bradley put the finishing touches on a…

BLT sandwich with Jasmine Tea?

Lydia wordlessly sat down as Bradley put the plate down next to her.

There was also a vase full of freshly picked flowers, but Lydia had no time to notice this, what the actual frick was going on?

"I hope this is good. As I said, first time. I'm open to constructive criticism!... Well, not really, but I'll try!", Bradley said, and he sat down, a small smile on his face.

Lydia looked down at the sandwich.

The bacon was a bit burnt (which was ok, Lydia liked it a bit burnt), the bread could use some extra defrosting, and the lettuce was a bit… Mangled, true, but…

Lydia grinned.

"I knew it."

Bradley's smile turned into a confused frown. "Knew what? Is it bad? Damn it, I knew I overcooked it!"

Lydia quickly put her arm up to calm him down. "No, no! Not like that! It's great. I haven't tried it yet, but it's great."

She stared into his eyes, feeling…

Unworthy.

"It's just… I knew you were kinder than you let on. I knew it."

Her smile was worth all the pain of the last few days.

Bradley smiled back. "Thank you… I… Thank you."

He would keep his doubts inside, for now.

Lydia began to eat the sandwich, and she took a sip of the tea.

"Very nice! Really warms my tum tum!", Lydia said, an Bradley suppressed a chuckle.

Who would have thought that this girl was some sort of angel?

"Not my idea. I asked Mort, it's the kind he drinks."

"I see.", Lydia nodded, and she resumed eating.

Bradley noted that she was eating slower than usual.

Huh.

"…"

A silence filled the room, as the two stared at each other.

It was almost like…

Like paradise.

Lydia smiled brightly.

Bradley, for once, felt the brightness too, and smiled back.

Lydia looked over at the clock for a moment, and, remembering all she had to do, suddenly let out a screech of terror.

"OH NO! I'M WASTING VALUABLE TIME!"

She got up, in a frenzy.

"I NEED TO FIX THE WINGS AND PAINT THE BACKGROUNDS AND TRAIN ON THE LINES AND…"

Suddenly, she felt Bradley's hands on her shoulder.

He sat her back down.

"Hey, what are you doing?", she protested, giving him a stink eye.

"The right thing.", he answered and he sat back down too.

"Bradley, this is stupid! I need to work, now! I lost all of last night, and if I don't work now, I'll fail them…"

"No.", Bradley answered.

He held her hand for a moment, relaxing her tense nerves.

"What you need… Is a slow, calm morning… Recharge, recuperate, and soon, your friends from the drama club will arrive."

Lydia looked surprised.

"You called them over here?"

"And told them everything.", he explained.

Bradley caressed her hand, and she relented.

"It's ok… They want to help you. Why, when I told them the whole story, they immediately suggested helping you.", he smiled, reassuring.

Lydia didn't know how to respond to this…

This amazing news.

"Really?"

Bradley softly nodded. "Really. They think you're the greatest. They all said that you've helped them so much. Now they want to return the favor."

Lydia looked down, sad.

"But… I didn't do anything.", she said, with a mouth full of lettuce.

Bradley shook his head. "No… You did everything. You're better than you think you are. And now… You don't have to do it on your own."

Lydia swallowed her bite and looked at Bradley with genuine gratitude.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she let out a trembling smile. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"First time for everything.", Bradley joked. "I didn't know I could care so much. But I do. You really are my…"

He choked for a second.

"You… You really are my friend. You gave me a chance when no one else would. I can't call myself your friend if I wouldn't be able to do the same."

Lydia got up and offered her hand for a handshake.

"Well, now you can. Thank you, Bradley Nicholson."

Bradley stood up and extended his hand in return. "You are very welcome, Lydia Holloway."

They began to shake hands, when Lydia suddenly took on a wild and mad grin.

"What?", Bradley asked, worried.

"You really think I'm not going to hug you?"

She pounced him, dropping him to the ground, laughing merrily.

She was smushing his hair, his glasses, his face that she rubbed hers with passionately and affectionately.

He could barely breath.

But he didn't care.

He laughed merrily too.

"That's the Lydia I know."

They smiled at each other on the floor, and then got up.

Bradley dusted himself off. "Well, I must be going. My parents… Will probably wonder where I am."

Lydia shyly looked at him. "I'm sorry I can't do anything in return."

Bradley chuckled warmly, before looking at her with much love. "Are you kidding? I care about others now. You gave me everything."

Lydia smiled proudly, and Bradley began to leave.

Suddenly, he turned around, looking very shy and confused.

"Um…"

"Yes?", Lydia asked, unsure of the matter.

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck. "I… I have a question. It's… It's a tad embarrassing… No, scratch that, infinitely embarrassing, but…"

Lydia laughed gently, surprising him. "Bradley, come on! We're friends right? Nothing that you can say will embarrass me!"

She slightly cockily pointed at herself. "I mean, I'm Lydia! I can't be phased!"

"I mean, you're kind of asking for it to be totally embarrassing.", Bradley side noted.

"It's fine. Tell me."

"I don't know. This feels like it's leading up to some big comedy moment of "Uh oh! She is embarrassed after all!" sort of thing."

"Tell me, Bradley.", Lydia said getting a tad impatient.

"I'm just saying", Bradley continued to explain, getting sidetracked. "Cinematic convention dictates that this is going to be truly embarrassing, we can avoid this and go home and…"

"TELL ME, BRADLEY!", Lydia screamed into a megaphone, making Bradley's ears ring.

The shyness and pressure on Bradley were too much, and so, he revealed his question. "Yesterday you kissed me on the cheek! I'm pretty sure you were too delirious to know why, but I was wondering if it wan intentional!"

He closed his eyes in fear, and then opened them to look at Lydia, who was now crimson red.

Her mouth was slightly agape, and she stuttered, a rarity for the motor mouthed girl.

"Uh… O-oh, y-y-ou m-mean, when I-I-I kissed you… Y-yesterday…"

The two teens were now avoiding eye contact, both very embarrassed.

"Well, you see, that was just because I was really tired. You know, I barely remember yesterday anyway.", Lydia barely choked out, though it was true.

"Oh, I see.", Bradley said, coughing awkwardly.

…

"…Does it count?"

Lydia looked back, confused. "What does?"

Bradley looked back shyly. "…Well, you see…"

He looked down, a little ashamed. "I've never been kissed before. I was wondering… Is this a first kiss?"

Lydia couldn't help but smile at the boy's innocence. She hated to rain on his parade, but she had to inform him.

"No, I wouldn't say. I wasn't fully aware, and besides, a first kiss, in my humble opinion, is when both people want to do it."

Bradley nodded. "Oh, I see."

Again, silence.

"…Did you… Did you like it?", Lydia asked.

Bradley's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…", Lydia was now very small, trying to hide her very pinkish red face.

"…I mean… The kiss… I know it didn't mean anything, but…"

A very small voice said "Did you like it?"

Bradley took a moment.

He wasn't sure what to say.

But as he remembered the moment, only two words could form themselves.

"…I did."

* * *

Later that day, Bradley was walking down the road, talking to Mort on his phone.

"So… How are you? That's really why I called, believe it or not.", Bradley said, his words actually feeling genuine.

You couldn't see it, but Mort was smiling on the other line. "I'm fine. Thank you."

He chuckled. "So, Bradley Nicholson listened to something I said?"

Bradley shook his head. "Well, you were one of the reasons. The other was Lydia."

Mort became concerned. "Is she ok? Did you find out?"

Bradley sighed as he stopped in front of a billboard.

The day was a little greyish, and the clouds hid the sun.

But Bradley felt it in his heart.

What an odd feeling…

Caring.

And being happy.

Was this…

Life?

Bradley could only hope he had found some semblance of it.

"She wasn't ok. Long story short, Lydia is in this play, and the director was emotionally abusing them, and the pressure, coupled with an intense need to help her fellow students, made Lydia start to resent herself thanks to his terrible words, but I was actually able to help. She should be fine. In fact…"

He smiled wistfully.

"I think she's going to be fabulous."

Mort was supremely happy to hear this. "I'm proud of you, man."

Bradley was going to reply, when suddenly he saw the poster to the play.

He took a moment, thinking that he would rather do something else…

But then his heart told him otherwise.

He knew…

This was the right thing to do.

And it felt good to do good.

"…Don't be proud of me yet."

He took a deep breath, and a sort of fuzzy feeling emanated from his chest.

He smiled, the sun reflecting off his glasses.

"There's something I need to do first…"

* * *

_6 days later…_

"Places!"

"Where's my prop? My god, if you don't help me, I will…"

"Move that chair! I can't enter like this!

"Stop the play, I want to get out!"

"Everyone, calm down!", Lydia clapped for attention.

The panicking and nervous group of teenagers all stopped talking and stared up at Lydia, already dressed in costume, looking calmer…

But with a hint of uncertainty.

"I know it's been hard…", she said, making a serious understatement.

"But it's not over! We can do this! We can make the grade!", Lydia said, cheering them up.

She smiled reassuredly, a smile they were all used to by now. "All of you are talented and amazing in your own ways. I know we can succeed! We just need to believe. Believe in yourself… And you're already halfway there."

The rest of the kids cheered, and moved to their places.

But Lydia stayed behind.

5 minutes 'till curtain.

Could…

Could she do this?

Was it all for vain?

Or did her hard effort mean anything?

Could she prove Corky wrong?

Could she make sure that everyone is happy?

Could she inspire that one person in the audience, that life was so much more?

Could she save her friends?

Could…

Could she prove her worth?

As Lydia got nervous, she took Bradley the Giraffe out.

"Oh, Bradley. Maybe I am not good enough…"

She sighed and moved the curtain.

She looked at the audience, the people she couldn't let down.

And suddenly…

She saw them.

Next to her parents, smiling and cheerful as ever, was Amanda, who looked distinguished and positive.

Next to her were Milo, Melissa and Zack, all smiling and laughing.

Next to them were Cavendish and Dakota, finely dressed, and finally, next to them, was Joni, who still looked melancholic, but she tried to smile, Mort, who looked as calm as ever and…

"Gasp!", Lydia gasped.

It was Bradley, dressed as nicely as he could with a fine grey suit, and a warm smile.

He looked straight at her…

And he offered a thumbs up.

Lydia smiled back.

Now she knew that she could do it.

She took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes.

The lights went off, and the actors got themselves ready.

Some were on stage now.

Any minute now, it would be her time.

Finally, the direction came.

Lydia grinned.

"Time to be me."

And she went on stage…

Sunny once again.

* * *

**Post Credits Scene:**

Sitting in the bathroom, he stared at his arm.

His plant arm.

He sighed.

Sure, he had improved in recent times…

But could he ever truly forgive himself for being such a selfish jerk?

Bradley didn't know.

All he knew was that he didn't feel human.

He hadn't cared for so long…

He hadn't been tried for so long…

Kindness…

Should have been obvious…

But he thought only of himself.

Was he human?

Or was he a monster?

As Bradley stared in the mirror, all he could do was cry.

Why…

Why was he alive?

* * *

**Coming Soon:**

**Sunny and Grey 3: I Don't Think You're So Bad**


End file.
